His whispered praise still hung in the air between them, a tender contrast to the raw hunger that had just consumed them. Shivangi’s body was a languid, pleasured weight against his, her skin slick with sweat and marked by the delicious evidence of his possession. She traced idle patterns on his chest, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

Harshad watched her through half-lidded eyes, the possessive fire within him far from banked. Seeing her so thoroughly satisfied, so completely his, only stoked the embers higher. His gaze drifted from the peaceful curve of her smile to the discarded clothes on the floor, his eyes landing on the thick leather belt snaking out from his trousers.